The day before yesterday (Private)

[Jilitse]

NOTE: This thread is meant to be my way of fleshing out Jilitse's history through a dream. This dream occurred before the Valterrian.

And there she was, in her neat clothes and awkward angles, a young woman not quite done with puberty. She held a book in her hand, the other palm clinging to the strap of her bag. She gently treaded across the room from her bedroom door to the kitchen, where the scent of hot bread and butter filled the air.

“Going early today?” Her father swung about and looked at her, eyes brimming with concern.

She returned a meek answer, a timid nod.

“Never the hesitant one, are you.” He handed her a small bag, and she daintily accepted the warm package. It was breakfast, no doubt. And a snack to get by if there was no time for lunch break.

“I suppose I should say ‘good luck’.” His eyes ached. “But…”

Silently, she stepped forward, a young lady with the determination of an adult. “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.”

And they hugged in silence, although she was the first to let go, the first to turn her back. “I will come back, papa.” She firmly said. “Until then, take care of yourself.”

He didn’t bring himself to speak any more, but inside his heart he wished that she would not turn out to be like her mother, a wizard imprisoned within her own magic, or himself, her father, a pitiful mage content with his defeat. As a matter of fact, he preferred if she did not become a mage at all. But she had decided, and this was the first and only decision that he had seen his child take. And he simply could not put out the fire in her eyes. She will have to learn things on her own way, sin her own sins, and discover her own discoveries.

She quietly left, an obscure presence that he will soon grow to miss. He looked out of the window. Outside, somebody was waiting waiting for her, a familiar face that whose name was unrecognizable. Someone from her past, maybe a neighbor or a friend. She tried to get his name, reached for it inside her memories. He was talking to her, as she was only half listening. She let go of his name. She would forget about it when she woke up anyway.

“Took you long enough.” He said, “It is a long way to the academy, sure you’re up to it?”

“Of course.” There was assurance in the tiny voice.

“We might turn up in the same class you know.”

“We won’t.” She smiled. Her face brightened up significantly whenever she looked at him. Her eyes glinted a secret that she wanted him to guess despite the fact that she would never tell.

The happiness faded as glimpses of reality echoed in her perfect world: It’s not real. He’s not your neighbor and will never be in the same class. But as it is with people who cling upon images of their escape, she rejected the voice of reason. This was here and now and she will embrace this moment. It was a lie, but she will embrace it nonetheless. Together they walked down the path, and the world shifted, the small houses replaced by bigger facades, the dirt road hardening into a cobblestone path. And they walked, she grew up and grew older with every step beside the man she loved.

Behind her, the whole town was consumed by violet flames.

[Jilitse]

Fire, the fire was just everywhere. It was already too late when she looked back. She forgot she was even inside a dream, everything appeared so real, as if ripped off from reality just so she could go through the pain again. The Suvan army had grazed the town to the ground, everybody retreated to the nearby city, which was doing nothing but wait for the enemy to crush them. She was running, running, running - towards what or who or where she didn't know. For a brief moment she was surprised she had the stamina to run.

Her eyes witnessed the appalling brutality - brawn against magic, man against woman, dead bodies left and right. She might have released a spell or two - both too fancy for her, and none of them she knew in real life. And then the world came into halt, and she was home again, before things burned down...

"Pa, they're fighting." Suddenly she was young again. Little Yaska.

"Go back to your room," came the hardened reply. He had been like this since she was gone, they were both broken and they would both deny it. But tonight Leth's light brought out the truth.

"I'm not going to go back to my room," she shook her head in defiance. "I want to fight and I want you to fight with me."

The ground was shaking, but the scene held on. Outside, explosions and ruins. She stood against him, "Pa, we need to get out and fight that battle. This is our home. This is my home!!! I'm not going to let them take it." She was now bursting with anger, seething with rage. Whether it was meant for her father or for their enemies was another thing entirely.

"You shut up kid, you know shit squat about fighting. Think you're going to change the world. You think your bravery's going to be worth something when you go out there? I bet you wouldn't even last a bell." There was nothing in his dead voice, no emotion whatsoever.

She wanted to slap him hard in the face so he would wake up from his dreams. That he would remember the great man that he once was. How could she believe in herself if the man she looked up to had already buried himself in self-pity and disappointment. Yas, on the contrary, never caved in to the pain and loneliness. She picked herself up when her dad gave up on living, made a living on her own and hauled herself to the capital to learn. She worked and studied at the same time to pay for her tuition, and accepted odd jobs just to pay the rent.

Back home, there was no one to dedicate her accomplishments to. She stopped trying so hard.

"She's gone Yas." He didn't cry. He couldn't. And he would never. "I might as well be dead. Dira would come for me soon enough."

"You're being unreasonable!! I'm still alive. Am I not worth living for Pa?" The tears were now brimming on her face. "You've long given up on her. You abandoned her when she became sick, stopped searching for her when s-she d-deserted." His wife, a jail deserter. Ranked among talented mages, on the list of those retired at an early age due to undisclosed reasons. "And now you're giving up on me too. You never even gave me a chance Pa." Today, she felt so alone.

It seemed to have stirred something in him. He spoke slowly, "Take our golem Yas. Take her to the capital. There's no battle to fight here, only loss and death. It is just a matter of time." He stood up, a dead man. "My love is lost, but yours is not."

She cried harder, let the tears fall, cried her heart out. She wanted to live, wanted to fight for the people she loved. But how could she fight for someone who no longer wanted to live?

"Pa I don't want to go without you. We can still fight together." She was now sitting on the shoulder of a large war machine. Her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably, tears mixing with sweat and dirt.

"You are going to live Yas. If we both go we both die." He spoke more words, "...don't be too hard on yourself ...." words that no longer meant anything to her. "... so proud of you, just not saying it because..." Things that she wished he would have told her earlier. "... to believe in yourself because no one else will..." Because they would have made things completely different. "... we loved you very much ... no regrets." She couldn't catch his point. It was already too late.

"I love you. You will always be my little girl." She didn't want to listen, but he came close and gave her one last hug. "I'm sorry, I know this would barely make up for all my shortcomings. Yas. Yas, listen." He brought her face up, made her look into his eyes when he said his final words. "You are worth dying for. So live, live and make it count."

Live. live. live. live. live. His words faded into the echo of the battle drums and battle cries.

[Jilitse]

She hated these dreams. Where others dream of flying and imaginary objects, she was constantly haunted by memories of her father. The loss of her hometown, her father giving up all his might for her and for Alahea. This should be a good dream, a great memory, she should be remembering him as a hero. As a mage living in the trying times of war, she should be proud of her father and follow his best example.

She should, but she couldn't.

Everytime her sleeptime was invaded by the war, Yaska would twist and turn in bed. She would wake up crying, but never recall what she was crying about. Her mind was wired to separate memories of the past to the reality of now and the promise of future. Nysel brought back to her that which she had always tried to forget. Every night she would recall battles and deaths. Yaska would fight against these dreams, and in her cowardice, forget them when she woke up. Soon, she started believing that the cure for nightmares was to not sleep at all. Only she could never prevent herself from sleeping, and in return, she received even more vivid memories of the war.

It was a world of gray and black and hues of red. There were nights when she walked the war in her chemise, and her bare feet scooping up mud and blood. There was nothing sad about the corpses lining up what was once a great street, nothing to feel for dead soldiers, no emotions of pity for dead children. Yas belonged to them, in a sense. Because every time she would remember, she would feel guilt. Why did she live, when all those around her have perished? She was scared of Dira, and how the queen of death claimed many souls one after another. Yas was greatly frightened of the smell of rotting flesh, tremendously horrified by broken and disembodied limbs. This world, this dream - the moaning of dying people, the stench of blood and blades - it was not yet everything when compared to the frightening sight of war. Suvan had taken too many Alaheans. They were winning the battle, troop morale was an all time low. Why won't they retreat? Why was Alahea too weak to fight back?

In dreams like these she wanted to resurrect the dead and punish those who cause them pain and those who caused the people left behind with suffering. Curse this war. And then she would run. Run through endless scenes and battles ignored. In this dream she had the bravery to survive - she could dash faster than a horse and evade battleaxes, she had the ability to stop a spear and the might to carry warhammers. Everything she was not when she was awake..

The lesson in these dream was that there would always be something worth fighting for. When Yas was dreaming she would realize that her assailants wore her own face, that these battles, this "war" was just a metaphor for her own cowardice. And sometimes she would realize that these dreams were trying to tell her something: That her own father fought his own battles and won against himself through these very same nightmares.

Yas would wake up, and again forget her epiphany. Her only recollection was the stench of blood and blades, and she would cry and pray for the end of the nightly phantasms.

[Jilitse]

Nysel never ended bothering her with these dreams until she met him. Zarik Mashaen. Yas was already an orphan when she started working for the Royal Academy of Magic. After graduation and finding nowhere else to go, she agreed to become an underpaid and overworked apprentice. She kept on changing departments, as she was constantly replaced by someone better. He was a great man, though second only to Sagallius, who was popular for being such a powerful mage, though he was stained with Benshiran blood.

She knew him already, and like most girls in the Academy, she held out a candle for him. The admiration blossomed into love by the time she worked for the man as an apprentice. Yas found someone she was going to fight for, someone to live for, and it didn't matter if he didn't know how she felt or if he would never love her back. She was blessed with a love unconditional and loyalty so fierce. It was all the inspiration she needed to hone herself as an apprentice. Nothing more. Yas found a reason to stop battling with herself, and her conscience ended the dreams of war. For a while, anyway, since a much bigger battle was to be fought in the far, far, future.

Her heart sang to her in her dreams, and in these dreams they were together. Sometimes the illusion was so real. She could feel him so close to her, holding her hand. In her dreams she was free to love Zarik Mashaen in ways no words can express. She looked forward to sleeping and dreaming and daydreaming. And so eventually she forgot her nightmares and found an alternate reality that was acceptable to her mind. What a mistake. For these were the same dreams that tied her to a spot, prevented her from soaring high. For she was disillusioned, and she had already created a world where he was hers and hers alone. So much so that she took it with a grain of salt when he married someone else - these were all out of her hand, of course, and in the world of yesterday's Alahea, a woman knew her place. A pitiful mage knew her place.

Her place was in the world of dreams, where you made your own reality and you fought for it. Sometimes the truth didn't matter. What mattered was what she believed in, what she believed to be true. She believed in love, though one would question if her loyalty was misplaced. Why would you disapprove in someone else's reason to live? Why, why was she in this place again. The place she had been fighting to forget, why does she keep on coming back here.

In this dream was a reality that would happen centuries from now, a possibility that only Tanroa knew of: Mashaen turned to Yaska and said into her eyes, "I cannot be your reason to live, not anymore." And she wailed, so loud that it can be heard in the Ukalas and the dream ended where the nightmares returned.

She was walking through old familiar streets, and around her were ruins burning lazily of violet fire. Corpses and dying people lay upon the streets, trodded gardens and destroyed flowers offering their solemn condolences. Those still living wished to join the dead in the afterlife - what was life when everthing was lost? Those who had the guts to live buried their dead. And Yas was there, watching, looking upon her beloved home that was no more. The war stole from her many things.

Not real. Yas fought what she saw. This was a dream and dreams were supposed to reflect happy things. Not real. If she could will things to change she could. Not real. A land without death and loneliness. Not real. The blood pouring out of her heart was not hers, not anymore.

[Jilitse]

There were times when she would wish for the dreams to stop. Reason never left you even when you are sleeping - in the land of dreams you would keep some semblance of truth and rational thought. And so often she would find herself debating within in the dream if "this is really real." Nysel didn't seem to take kindly upon those who fought against the dreamworld, for it was not the world of the awake. Sometimes Yaska did not fully believe in her dreams of the war. Whenever it got too ridiculous, out-of-this-world and illogical, she would try to bite her tongue. But even the conscious attempt to remember that this was all a dream took too much effort - there was this one time she took Mashaen out for a picnic. Her mind argued that it could never have happened that way, there were no nearby gardens to stroll in. Part of her denied the truth and allowed herself to be enthralled by the well-decorated parks. One moment she was handing food to Mashaen, and then the next moment they were fighting side-by-side against an army. By the time the dream slid into a scene she did not want to roll out she would keep on wishing herself to be awake. Quickly, what she firmly affirmed as true was now a lie, a nightmare. Sometimes Nysel granted her permission to stay lucid in the dream, In those moments, she would be fully aware that this was her compensating for all the things she could not do in the real world. Those are quickly forgotten upon waking, as always. The world of dreams had always been disjoint with the world of reality.

Dreams were often metaphors of what the struggles we face in real life. Yas had dreams of endless running, chasing. Like a dilemma that could not be resolved, could not be comprehended. One of her recurring dreams was that of chasing her dad and searching for her mother. Nysel would grant her companions in the form of her fairy tale heroes and random friends from the academy.

"We almost got him, that was so close!" Ever hopeful, she would claim near victory a good thing. Of course the pangs of disappointment were there, the pain of sadness in the air. She would have writhed in anguish if she remembered now that Pa was dead. Her team mate, a sailor, agreed, "Yea, we nearly caught up. But we couldn't, not yet." His face was familiar, one that she had encountered before in her travels. They were not really acquainted in real life, but that didn't matter in this dream. "I am so helpless," Yaska would complain, "I feel like I should try harder, every so often I would see him glance back at me. You see it, too, don't you?" The sailor nodded and she continued, "I'm unsure if he's going to say something. I don't know if he wants me to stop following." And then confused, "But there's this feeling that he's leading me to Ma." And then less certain, "Or is he, really?" It was hard to tell, this was a dream, after all. "I don't understand why I could not close a few meters gap. I try so hard and still end up trailing behind." Of course the chase made perfect sense - she was just not running enough. But what was enough, considering that she had been tirelessly running and chasing? Sprinting would not even do the trick, as if there was some force in the universe preventing her from resolving the dream. And she would again continue the chase, and run all night, in the limbo of barely reaching her father. Yas would wake up abruptly, sweating and panting, but she not really remember what it was she had been dreaming about. The only feeling sinking in her heart was the feeling of dread and the knowledge of forgetting to do something. And then she would close her eyes and doze away. When she woke up again, she would have completely forgotten about it.

Her struggling dreams were sometimes paired with her dreams of Mashaen. Her heartaches travel from reality to her world of make-believe, that often times those events that included her love were worse than her nightmares of the war. Even if she was free to love Mashaen in her sleep, no matter how many hugs and kisses, he would not lie to her. He would not declare his love for her, because there was none to declare in the first place. Oh but how Yaska ached for that, even if it was just in a dream, even if it was only a lie. There were dreams when she knew she was dreaming and fought it off, wanting to influence her love to love her back. Only it wouldn't happen. And sometimes this led to a well of tears, a dam breaking apart. The curtains shielding her from lies would lift up and she would find herself abruptly pulled apart from Mashaen. Like a character in a play killed off, Mashaen was out of her world. She never belonged in his dreams in the first place.

There were various versions of this dream, and one of them involved lots of running. Sometimes it also involved running away. Her fears took form of various monsters, sometimes they were giants of unimaginable scales, there were time when they crawled on their bellies or chased her with their wings. Running with endless stamina, Yas would attempt to escape from the truth. She would chase after Mashaen while attempting to be free of the extra luggage following her from behind. As always, the distance would not change. She would come close to reaching Mashaen, hands stretched out to catch him in a hug, but the embodiment of her nightmares would be close behind, just around the corner. Pulling her legs, pulling her away.

She would wake up in the middle of the night, fully aware of what the dream meant. She would try to hold onto it, memorize and recall the events until Nysel would ask for it back and Yas would only be left with another restless night.

[Jilitse]

Some of these dreams got really awful. If the dream world was capable of reflecting the real world, it was better able at magnifying the hidden feelings within. Like an organ was taken out of your body to be scrutinized, squeezed to let out what the mind believed in, but refused to accept. For people like Yaska, whose life will always contain a vacuous hole that will never be filled, dreams were vessels upon which the greatest of her shortcomings and insecurities would get magnified. In the waking world she called them nightmares, but they were no less than real than her false dreams of Mashaen.

When she was a kid she began as an excellent student, inquisitive and bright. She was mature for her age, even among her older peers. Some would argue that a child without a mother would not be made well, or would turn out wrong, as if children were cakes that came out of an oven. Perhaps in the definition of the word, Yaska was awkward. With only a father to teach her of life and morals, she was independent and unladylike. And she was always caught in the in-between. No girls would befriend her for she paid no heed to fashion or boys. And she could not keep friendship with boys, for it would either be scandalous on her part or questionable on the little man's side.

Even as a child she had dreams of not belonging in the real world. It was an ache she had learned to nursed, to be battled against only in dreams. Sometimes she was naked in these dreams, people jeered and laughed and pointed at her. Yas would feel genuinely ashamed for being herself. As she grew older dreams of nakedness were horrific than perverse.

It had to do something with the way she felt incompetent about herself. As the years went by she knew that belittling herself did her no good, the loss of self-confidence would be an issue to hinder her development as a mage. When forced to make a decision she would shy from what she believed in and admit defeat and helplessness.

As earlier mentioned, these kind of dreams have been rectified upon Mashaen's arrival in her life. Sure, she would still have dreams of being naked: sometimes even in front of Mashaen - which she would regret in the instant she would wake up, for no decent woman would act so lewdly, even if it was just a dream! - as if her love empowered her to act so boldly.

It was a capital reason why she couldn't let go of being his apprentice, because in him she had found her source of strength. He was an inspiration so great that thoughts of him permeated her dreams, uplifting her soul. In the real world she would stay subservient and fiercely loyal, and in her dreams she would be his paramour.

"Yaska, are you sure you want to do this," he had asked her in her dreams. It was a time when the world had gone for the worst, and this was even before Ivak's rage had brought about the Valterrian. He meant to ask if she was decided to join Project Sahova. It meant total surrender of her life to the cause of Alahea.

"Sagallius has been mad since," she said, cautiously avoiding outright discussing the subject of Sagallius' overgiving. He was considered a hero for saving the young Kova, but beyond that he had bargained for his own sanity. "But I cannot deny that I have faith in his ideas." The former Court Mage was one of the greatest minds who ever lived, none of those who were alive at that time knew that he was aiming for godhood.

"And if only to be by your side and to support you, I shall do it." She pleaded, "Let me follow you, even in undeath."

Mashaen's face fell and he looked dim, so much so that his manifestation in this dream turned into shades of gray. In his hand he held a knife.

From thereon, the world was washed in static black and white. She awoke as a Nuit, and the dreams would then end. The nightmares would stop coming, but that is not to say that Yaska stopped dreaming. In undeath Tanroa would temper too many of Yaska's emotions until she soon pushed aside her nightmares and dreams, leaving only a hole in her heart. For many many years she would live in static black and white, and the Valterrian would come and pass. A lingering thought that she was destined to do something beyond her limit would remain.

She would not remember, but Nysel was first to teach her the lesson of believing in herself and in the power of her dreams. Nightmares may have stolen from her peaceful sleep, but Yaska lived in troubled times, and there was no room for meandering in whimsical wishes. In the future, there were far worse nightmares to come, and there would be no world of dreams to retreat to.

On a piece of paper, lost long ago, she had written:

"The day before yesterday I dreamed about chasing after a doe. I chased and chased but was never able to catch up. I could no longer remember most of the dream, only that I had been running endlessly, and even now it doesn't make any sense."

"Yesterday I dreamed of a hundred humans flying to the air! And along with them I sailed in the clouds. I remember this vividly, it is still clear in my mind. I was flying and was aware the dream was not real, because I was flying over a nasty scene of bloodbath and war, where the souls departed from their bodies and became ghosts floating in the air. First of all, it is impossible to fly. I feel nauseated remembering the deaths I witnessed. Does this dream mean that I'd die in such a circumstance?"

"But today, I saw you." No reference was made as to who it was, if it was male or female, for no name was left behind. "And if your presence is a dream I'd rather not wake at all." The note was concluded with a small heart for a punctuation, letting whoever would have read the note think that the last of her dreams went on, even after sleep.

-End-